[SIDESTORY] Morbit Vignettes

[skinstealer]

Gab- 2020
Ringor Mortis
CW: Cults, implied drugging
Gab deals with an all too familiar annoyance.

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“Do you know why you’re here?”

Gab opens his eyes slowly, dragging himself into a sitting position. Everything stings all over, and his wrists feel like they’d been bound at some point. The room is dark but from what he can tell, completely empty aside from him. The ceilings are too low for him to stand up comfortably, and his legs hurt too much to even consider it right now anyway. 

Great. 

“...I dunno, I just woke up…”

“State your name and species.”

He feels the phantom sensation of a tail lashing in annoyance, and wishes for the millionth time that it hadn’t been cut off ages ago. 

“It’s Gab, and I have no idea.” He holds up his wrists, shaking them into the air. “Can I be untied now?”

“Not until you give us a straight answer.”

“Oh my g- my name is Gab, and there’s legitimately not a word for whatever I am.”

“Both of these facts are objectively incorrect.”

Gab rolls his eyes and lets out an exaggerated sigh, only slightly playing up his annoyance. “Look, if you’ve gone and captured me, you know who I am, and you know that I don’t like talking about things like this.”

“State your name and species.”

He tries not to growl, looking as composed as he can. “Fine. Javelin Rose, fiend.” God, he hates that word. “Are you happy now?” 

“Why do you use a false name and history?”

“Because- you already know the answers to all of this! Stop playing games with me!”

“Why do you use a false name an-”

He lets out an exasperated snarl, unable to keep himself entirely held back. “Because I want to avoid this exact situation! I imagine you’re one of those goddamn cultists out to try and resurrect me as your idol or false deity or whatever you want to make of me, and I’m not interested! I left that behind a century ago, and I don’t have any intention of going back.”

“Why do you indulge in hedonistic society?”

“Hedonistic- are you serious? I’m not even allowed to go to restaurants or clubs? Is that too unbecoming of whatever you’ve built me up to be?” He’s starting to get livid now, feeling his golden blood boil. “Well how about this-”

He spits on the ground, glaring up at the closest approximation of the voice’s location. The floor sizzles slightly, his saliva not quite acidic enough to burn through anything- but definitely not harmless.

“See! I’m filthy, unclean, exactly the opposite of what you expected! I hope you hate that, sincerely. I hope it makes you want to cry, to know that the oh-so-mighty being that you worshipped is just another disgusting person on this planet!” He shakes his wrists in the air again. “I’m clearly not what you think I am, so let me the fuck out!”

There is silence for a good few moments, Gab not breaking his glare at the room around him. He almost doesn’t notice the restraints releasing around his wrists until they fall off entirely, leaving him trying to rub the soreness out. 

“You will be sedated again, and then released.”

“What do you mean-”

He knocks out before he can retort, the exact means unknown. 

God, I hate cults.